Chapter 10 #3
Flat on his back, Nate’s body pressing him into the mattress, Nate’s mouth on his and he could feel the scratch of barely-there stubble at his jaw, his cheeks, forehead against forehead and noses slotted together as Nate worked them both with his hand.
And Connor felt himself tracing up Nate’s calf with the arch of his foot, up to his thigh before hooking his leg over his hip.
Opening himself up for Nate, really, and Connor didn’t have it in himself to feel humiliated by that.
But Nate drew back just enough, his hand pausing between them, awestruck.
That was an expression Connor didn’t know how to face, not when he was underneath Nate, so he caught his face between his hands and kissed him instead.
You going to make us come? He thought but doesn’t ask, doesn’t ask because he was drunk on the forbidden taste of Nate’s lips, Nate’s hand, his body so close and everything he knows he was not supposed to have.
He wanted, and he wanted, and he was too far gone to feel so betrayed by the sheer depth of his wants.
Nate came first. Connor normally hated when the guy he was with finished first, but this was different.
He felt Nate shudder above him, breath hitching as he spilled hot and sticky between their erections in his fist–and then, he didn’t stop.
He was still touching Connor, still trying to get him there, talking him through it in short whispers. And that was what had Connor reaching his peak, head falling back against the sheets, lips parted in a voiceless moan as he rode it out against Nate’s hand.
They laid there together in the in the long silence the aftermath, neither speaking, Nate beside Connor still laying on his back.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. If anyone from Alarie Inc. were to spot him, that could spell disaster for him. And Nate, but mostly him. Connor knew he needed to go back to his own room. His own hotel.
Nate’s fingers twitched against his hand. It was an unasked question, one that Connor pretended not to notice as he pulled his hand away and used his fingers to brush sweat-damp hair out of his face.
He would need a shower when he came back to his room. He probably smelled terrible and looked even worse.
Not that Nate noticed.
“That was–you’re–” Nate cut himself off with a breathless laugh. “Real maneater, y’know?”
“Hm.”
That was all Connor responded with. He dropped his forearm over his eyes.
What the hell did he just do?
Like everyone single one of Connor’s worst impulses had led him here, lying in a hotel bed next to his boss-
And not for the first time, either.
“Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Fine. Tired. It was a long day.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Yeah, I’m- I’m tired, too.”
Connor knew he wasn’t. But he didn’t call Nate on it, because then Nate might do the same to him.
No, he was looking for another way out.
“What time is it?”
“Almost 1.”
Connor found himself wondering where the time went, and slowly sat up in bed. He chanced one glance at Nate–and of course there was no illusion there. He looked just as good as Connor remembered, but now he wore an expression that was too earnest, too intimate for him to stand.
Without a word, Connor tore his gaze away and climbed out of bed, stepping into the bathroom to clean himself up. Then he picked up his clothes from the floor of the suite–his slacks near the bed, his shirt near the loveseat. Socks had ended up in two separate locations.
He started dressing himself, painfully aware of Nate’s watching his every move in that quiet confusion of his, like Connor was performing some play he’d never seen before.
“You’re leaving?”
“It’s late. I need to go to bed.”
“You could stay. If you wanted.”
Connor didn’t respond, pulling on his slacks. Nate seemed to think that was an invitation to keep trying to convince him.
“The first workshop isn’t until 10:30. You could stay. Sleep in a little. I’ll get us room service breakfast. I think I saw avocado toast on the menu.”
Connor hesitated before buttoning his slacks.
He liked avocado toast. It was something he’d once ordered when he and Nate had opted for breakfast in the office a few weeks back. The idea that Nate might remember-
It didn’t sit right with Connor.
“You and I both know we can’t do that,” Connor said, not softening his tone. He zipped up his slacks and buttons them, then turns to his shirt, pulling it on.
Nate was quiet for a while, and Connor could only regret speaking so harshly to him. But he didn't want to apologize. He finished buttoning his shirt and slipped his socks back on.
“We’ll pretend this never happened,” Connor said.
“I don’t want to do that,” Nate replied quickly. Too quickly. Because he wasn’t thinking about the consequences of something like this. Of course he wasn’t.
He was just a recent MBA grad barely a year out of his internship, shielded from any potential consequences by sheer luck of birth.
Connor closed his eyes, trying to find that old irritation that used to flame up in his chest whenever he thought about Nate. But there was nothing.
Only a bitter ache he wished he could will away.
No, he didn’t want to pretend this hadn’t happened, either. But he knew better.
“Us, getting involved like this. It’s a terrible idea,” Connor said cooly. To himself, to Nate? He wasn’t sure.
“Yeah,” Nate said after a while. “I know it is.”
Message received, loud and clear.
He found his shoes near the loveseat and slipped them on, chancing one last glance at Nate who still hadn’t moved from the bed. Connor grit his teeth. He didn’t let it soften him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said flatly, not giving Nate a chance to reply before slipping out of the room into a blissfully empty hallway.
Out here, Connor could pretend nothing happened at all, and that was exactly what he did on the walk back to the Marriott.